RIVER RUN
16
The old man’s body was so light that Alec had no trouble carrying it to the high sandstone wall. The cliff dwellings above, where most of the Indian’s ancient ancestors had lived, would make a fitting place for his body, at least until Alec was able to reach others who might wish to bury him elsewhere.
The rust-colored wall above Alec looked like a stage setting and, for a moment, he thought he was acting in some kind of an amateur play. There was no reality to what he was doing at all. But he was not playing a part on stage. What he was doing was real, and a matter of life and death to him. He had to find a way out or, as it was for the old man, this place would be his tomb too.
The path leading to the first-story dwellings was well worn and Alec carried his burden to the nearest one. He entered the cave with the old man in his arms, looking at the ancient drawings and symbols on the walls and wondering what they had meant to those who lived there so long ago. Then, carefully, he placed the old man upon the floor, the fine dust swirling about his frail body.
A few minutes later Alec returned to the Indian’s campsite and put what was left of the old man’s food in his pockets. Then he looked about, wondering which way to go. There was no more than an hour or two left of daylight.
Alec watched the Black move quickly in the dim light as he found one patch of grass after another to his liking, but often, too, he turned to look in Alec’s direction, his eyes bright and ears pricked. He seemed interested in everything about him and unafraid.
Alec shook his head in wonder; it was as if his horse were in a paddock at home, not deep within this underground world. Alec wished he could feel the same way.
What had the old Indian meant when he’d said “River Run … River Run”? Alec wondered.
His eyes followed the swift rushing stream to the far end of the pueblo, where it swept through a narrow chasm amidst towering walls. Was there any way to follow that torrent of water to the outside world? Was that what the old Indian had meant by “River Run”?
Alec decided to use whatever daylight was left to find out. He followed the stream, looking for any sign of a trail that would indicate the Indian’s route. The old man had been too feeble to travel far, so his village couldn’t be far away. And yet Alec knew that the old man had been driven to reach the sacred pueblo by incredible determination, which could have taken him farther than expected of so frail a body.
At first the stream was shallow and Alec was able to cross it often as he made his way to the far end of the pueblo. The Black left his grazing to move alongside Alec and then surge ahead. Alec let him go, knowing that the stallion’s instincts were far better than his own and that the Black might find a trail where he couldn’t.
He saw the stallion stop occasionally to step around certain areas of the stream. When Alec reached them he found pockets of quicksand and became more careful, keeping closer to the banks. The flow of water became ever faster as he neared the narrow chasm ahead.
Finally Alec came to a halt. Ahead, sheer sandstone walls rose to either side of the torrent of rushing white water. He knew there was no way for him and his horse to go through such turbulence into the chasm.
River Run. Was this it? Alec wondered. But the old Indian could not have navigated the turbulent waters any more than he could. There had to be another way out besides the tunnel he had entered by. Where was it?
Alec looked around, knowing the ancient inhabitants of the pueblo had been protected from the elements outside by its great walls, and the stream had provided them with grass for their livestock and fertile soil to grow their food. But there was no doubt in his mind that they had had more than one entrance to the pueblo. Another tunnel had to lead to the outside world. He had only to find it.
Moving carefully in the shadows of the overhanging walls, Alec began to explore the banks of the stream for the start of a trail. He stopped when he came upon a low slab of rock with an Indian symbol etched on it. Parting the heavy brush above it, he saw a worn trail leading into a small but deep ravine!
Excitedly, his gaze followed the ravine as it dropped steeply toward the sandstone wall, coming to an end at the entrance to a large tunnel. He couldn’t restrain the cry that came from him, believing he had found the way out!
The trail was easily accessible from the stream. Alec called to the Black to follow him as he broke through the brush and started down the ravine.
Great heaps of stone were piled everywhere, appearing as though the way had been cleared by hand. Alec could readily believe that at one time the ravine had been the original bed of the stream, and the ancient inhabitants had diverted the flow of water from this route to go through the chasm. For what purpose? To close the chasm to outside invasion, making the pueblo more secure?
Reaching the tunnel at the bottom of the ravine, Alec saw that its entrance was supported by great blocks of hand-hewn masonry. From behind, the Black snorted and Alec turned to him. The stallion’s nostrils were flared wildly, sniffing unfamiliar scents. Alec reached out to him and the Black nuzzled his hand before shattering the confines of the ravine with a shrill blast.
“Wait here,” Alec told him, stepping inside the tunnel entrance. He found himself in a tall chamber, dimly lit by daylight coming through a hole where the roof had fallen in. Stone and mortar were scattered about, and Alec knew that an earthquake or an underground explosion of some kind had accounted for the general disorder of the chamber.
The tunnel leading from the chamber was black as pitch. Alec went to it, undecided what to do. Had the old Indian found his way through it with the aid of a light? Alec looked around the floor and found a blackened torch. Picking it up, he found it faintly warm to his touch and knew he had his answer. The tunnel led to the outside world.
Alec returned to the entrance and sat down on the rocky floor, his eyes on his horse. He could get a fresh torch from the old Indian’s campfire, which probably still burned, and find his way through the tunnel. But the Black would not be able to go with him, for the tunnel was too low, too narrow for a horse.
There must be another way, he decided, for the ancient inhabitants too had livestock. How had they entered the pueblo? He would have to find the way; he was not going to leave without his horse.
Alec was getting to his feet when he saw a large ring directly beneath the Black’s hind legs. He went to it and swept away a thin coating of what looked like volcanic ash. Taking hold of the ring with both hands, Alec pulled. He was surprised how little strength it took to lift a large section of what was not stone but mortar. Putting it aside, he could see only empty blackness below. Then, bending over the hole and listening closely, he could hear the sound of rushing water. The sound grew louder and suddenly he realized the water below was rising to the surface in the form of steam!
This was an area, he guessed, where faults in the earth’s surface allowed molten rock to seep close to the surface and heat underground water. Whatever he had done by uncovering the hole had resulted in some underground pressure wave, turning the surface water to steam with the high temperature.
Alec was attempting to put the slab of masonry back over the hole when he heard what sounded like an explosion at the top of the ravine. It startled him and he leaped to his feet. The sight that met his eyes was even more startling, for a rush of water filled the trail above and was cascading down the incline toward him!
Alec knew it had to be water from the stream, but what had diverted its course? Had his uncapping the hole created an underground pressure wave so great that it had triggered a landslip above? Had the ancient ones planned this too?
Shocked to the point of immobility, Alec watched the first rush of water reach the bottom of the ravine and pour into the hole, steam rising in its wake. Only when the water deepened around his legs, tearing at his balance, did he realize his danger. The water was increasing in volume and speed and would soon fill the whole ravine, making it impossible for him and the Black to leave!
“Get out of here!” he shouted to his horse.
The water was churning over his knees as Alec plunged up the narrow ravine. He lost his footing and grabbed hold of the stallion’s mane for support. Halfway up the ravine, the water was to Alec’s waist as the Black tried to resist the force of the ever-increasing current.
Alec lost his hold on the Black’s mane and the water cascaded over his head, the current seeking to hurl him back toward the gaping hole. Reaching out, Alec caught hold of the stallion’s tail and held on to it for his life.
The Black plunged forward, trying to stay on his feet, but the rush of water seemed too strong for him too. He lost his balance and his hoofs flayed the water as he tried desperately to regain his footing. Finally he stood upright again and once more fought the raging current. Step by step, he struggled up the ravine.
Alec kept holding the stallion’s tail, knowing they were nearing the upper part of the ravine where the current was less strong. He managed to get his feet under him and struggled forward with his horse.
Only when they had reached a point above where the stream plunged into the ravine did Alec know they were safe. Where the ledge with its Indian symbol had been was now only a deep rift in the bank through which the stream flowed. What had caused the landslip? What explosive force had he triggered from below?
Exhausted from his grim fight with death, Alec let go of his horse and lay still.
HOPELESS PEOPLE
17
Alec rested a long while. Then, feeling that his strength had returned sufficiently to allow him to go on, he got to his feet.
The stream was still pouring down into the ravine through the rift in the bank, its waters forming a huge whirlpool over the hole he had uncovered. It was only when his gaze returned to the chasm beyond that he fully realized what had happened.
Now that the stream no longer flowed through the original bed, the chasm was a ragged, stone-laden trail through the sandstone walls!
Calling to the Black, Alec made his way quickly to the chasm. The streambed rocks, slippery with slime and mud, were the only obstacles he had to face to leave the pueblo forever behind him! He chose his way slowly, leading the Black, well aware of the danger of breaking a leg.
Within minutes the chasm widened and the way became easier. Alec increased his pace, anxious to find out where the dry streambed led before dark. To either side of him he made out more caves in the high sandstone walls, all staring at him as if they were black eyes watching his progress through the chasm.
The chasm widened into a large canyon, bright in the late rays of the sun. Alec stopped to rest, a ball of sweat running from his face. He hoped he could find the Indian village before his food ran out. Above the canyon walls, he watched vultures spiraling down a thermal. They were the first signs of life he’d seen outside the pueblo. Alec got to his feet, determined that he and his horse would not provide food for such scavengers.
The ground over which Alec walked became a wasteland of black shale and other rock. Finally he emerged from a narrow passage in the canyon walls to find a broad plain stretched before him. The flat-topped plateau appeared to be open country, seemingly devoid of all life from where he stood. The light of the setting sun was intensely strong, flooding the dry earth with an overwhelming golden glow. Somewhere on the plateau, Alec believed, he would find the Indian village.
Alec mounted the Black and wrapped his arms about the stallion’s neck. Despite the growing coolness of the air, he felt sweat pouring down between his shoulder blades. For several miles he rode seeing no sign of life. But suddenly the Black’s ears pricked forward and he neighed shrilly. Only then did Alec notice the wisps of smoke that were beginning to rise in the north. He watched the spirals curling ever higher into the sky, his first evidence of human life!
Alec galloped the Black for a full mile before slowing him to a walk. They were nearing a sandstone cliff about forty feet high, rising like a small rock fortress.
A well-traveled trail led to the top of the cliff and as Alec rode up it he heard the bleating of sheep beyond. When he reached the end of the trail, he found that the cliff was sheared cleanly at the top. Stretched before him was a small mesa of flat tableland, one of meadows and plowed fields! At the far end were humpy shacks and distant figures of people moving between them. Closer still was a crudely fenced area holding a flock of bleating sheep.
As Alec neared the sheep, a shaggy dog lying in the dust leaped to his feet and began barking. From behind the rocks an Indian boy emerged, one who wore a red rag around his head and whose face Alec readily recognized.
“I have told my people of your coming,” Alph said, his voice disclosing no surprise at Alec’s appearance. “It is as my old father has said it would be.”
“Your old father is dead.”
“He is not dead,” the boy answered. “I am told that he sleeps with the ancient ones in the sacred pueblo. Now you and Black Fire will take us there too, so we will be safe and live to help create the Fifth World.”
“I’m not going back,” Alec said. “But what’s to stop you and your people from going, if that’s what you want?”
“It is sacred ground. We can only follow you and the black horse of fire. It is so written in the stars.”
Saying no more, the Indian boy ran off toward the village, the shaggy dog barking at his heels.
Alec rode the Black into the village, a long row of decaying adobe structures with shuttered windows, shacks of boards and dirt and outhouses set amidst concrete rubble. His eyes greeted the women and old men who stretched out their arms to him in friendship and welcome. And there were children too—lots of children—who gleefully sought to reach up and touch the black stallion. Where were the younger men, the fathers of these children? Alec wondered.
Alph called, and when Alec rode forward he saw the elders in the tribe spreading lines of blue sand before the Black’s hoofs, as the old man had done in the underground pueblo.
Alph stood beside a tall, lean woman. “This is my mother, Cloud Dancer,” he said.
The woman smiled while speaking to Alec in her native tongue. Alec realized she was not as old as she looked, and at one time had been very beautiful. But now her face, like her body, was shrunken and lined with fatigue.
“She welcomes you to our house,” the boy interpreted. “You will stay with us until it is time to leave. My father hunts with others of our clan but they will return soon now that the sun has gone to rest.” His brown face suddenly showed concern. “We have time to wait for them?” he asked.
Alec nodded. “We have plenty of time,” he said. Then he turned to the crowd gathered around him. “Is one of them your chief?” he asked the boy. “I would like to talk to him.”
“We have no chief,” Alph answered. “Only wise old people. But it is my father who will speak with you. He will do what needs to be done.”
“Then your father will understand what I have to say,” Alec said hopefully.
“We have corn for Black Fire,” the boy went on eagerly. “He will be fed well before his journey.”
“That’s good.” But Alec believed with all his heart that nothing would get him back into that underground world he had left behind.
Later, with the Black fed and safe within a small fenced corral close by, where he could be watched, Alec followed the boy to his home. It was a lean- to shack with odd pieces of wood nailed together and the crevices sealed with black plastic.
Alec went inside to find the interior dark and cold after the lingering bright light outside. There was only one room and it was dimly lit by a kerosene lamp standing in the center of a wooden table. In the corner of the room was an empty oil drum used as a wood stove for cooking and warmth. Spread over the floor were sheepskins for beds. The boy’s mother stood at a sink washing pottery dishes she removed from a cupboard above it.
Alec watched the woman grind corn and make it into a mush before wrapping it in cornhusks. Then she put the husks in hot ashes, covering them wit
h leaves and sand while building a small fire over them.
Later she called them to the table, setting down a pitcher of thin milk and filling their glasses. Alec found the steaming food delicious. He didn’t know if it was as good as it tasted or if his hunger made it seem so. It didn’t matter. He ate until he could hold no more and felt strangely content.
Afterward Alec went outside to stand in the swiftly falling night, wondering how he could change these people’s minds about him and obtain their help. When the men returned, he would tell them that there was no need to go to the sacred pueblo. They could see that the world was not coming to an end, despite their fearful prophecy.
The first stars were beginning to appear in the night sky. Alec never had seen them so bright and numerous, and he accounted the clear air and altitude of the mesa for it. The Indians read their prophecies in the stars. He looked for the Blue Star the old man had mentioned but couldn’t find it.
“I saw the Blue Star explode,” the Indian had said. “It was visible in daylight for twenty-three days before fading and seen at night for another six hundred and thirty-three days. That was the sign that your coming was at hand.”
It was all just a figment of the old man’s imagination, Alec decided.
The air was cold and hard to breathe; yet Alec didn’t want to go inside. He stretched and shook himself. Then he turned to the stars again.
It was so easy, he decided, to lose oneself in legends as did the Indians. And so seductive. The Indians and their gods, all written in the night sky. And yet, he reminded himself, this clan had not retreated from life but had waited patiently for whatever it was they believed in. It was more than he could say for many of his own people, including himself. He had thought his own world was coming to an end with the death of Pam and had run from it.